Unspoken Need
by laced-scrawl
Summary: Hermione goes to see Draco in the hospital wing after he is attacked. Can she be the person he needs her to be without her feelings getting in the way? "I loved you." "There's a thin line between love and hate." "Exactly." Please R&R!


**Unspoken Need**

**A/N: **Hey! It's been a while since I've written anything, but I found this on one of my files and thought I'd share it with you! It's just a little one-shot I wrote a while ago that's set during their seventh year, whilst the war is going on. I hope you like it – please R&R! xxx

**Summary: **Hermione goes to see Draco after he is attacked. Can she be the person he needs her to be without her feelings getting in the way? "I loved you." "There's a thin line between love and hate." "Exactly."

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot!

"Have you heard? Draco Malfoy's in the hospital wing – he's been attacked!"

She should have been expecting it really; it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. In all honesty, she was surprised it hadn't occurred sooner – he was lucky to have been left unharmed and protected for as long as he had been. Now she knew that all of her hunches and gut feelings had been right. It almost made the sleepless nights seem worth it.

Almost.

When she'd heard the news from Gryffindor's resident gossip Lavender Brown, she'd not faltered in her indifferent expression. Not once. To her, Draco Malfoy was supposed to be nothing more than a bully who deserved everything that he received. Yet she bit her tongue as Harry and Ron made joke after joke at his expense, barely managing to crack a smile without grimacing in fury. She told herself that they were allowed to feel that way because Draco Malfoy was a nasty piece of work. He was cruel, unkind, soul-less. He didn't care about who he hurt, and was ruthless in executing pain unto others.

She should know. He broke her heart two months ago.

The sad thing was that whilst she'd always anticipated whatever it was between them to come to an end eventually, she'd never realised that she'd actually _given_ him her heart to break. Not until it was too late; too late to lock it away, and too late to ask for it back.

Still, despite the pain she felt whenever she thought about the matter, she still borrowed Harry's invisible cloak and snuck away to the hospital wing after curfew to see him, just as she knew she would from the moment Lavender had told her what had happened. She'd mentally calculated that she'd need to leave at around four o'clock in the morning, an hour before Madame Pomphrey awoke to begin her duties. It would give her enough time to sneak back to her room without anyone noticing, and guarantee her a few hours of much needed sleep. She'd be awake with worry if she stayed away from him – it had become a habit for her after all.

She stood at the foot of his bed for a while, just watching his chest rise and fall. The left side of his face was swollen, his right leg was bandaged up, his skin was even paler than usual and even though he was bundled up in blankets, he seemed smaller somehow. She shivered slightly as she thought of the mental torture he'd probably received, and how badly it would have affected him internally. Even though he portrayed the image of the tough, invincible prick so perfectly, she knew he must be pretty close to his breaking point; all of his steel barriers pushed to the absolute limit. His façade never fooled her – she'd always seen him for what he was; a normal boy caught up in an impossible situation. Her heart ached at seeing him in such a helpless position.

"You finished assessing the damage yet?"

His croaky voice brought her away from her thoughts and she shot him a concerned smile, knowing that he'd probably stayed awake waiting for her.

"Not much to assess, is there?" she replied in a teasing tone. He rolled his eyes and she moved a little closer to him, but made sure to keep a bigger distance than was probably necessary; she didn't want to complicate matters.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, though she knew there was no point. He wouldn't appreciate it.

She was right.

"Peachy. Never been better. Having the time of my life." He replied in a deadpan tone, glaring at her.

She sighed. His attitude irritated her to no end, regardless of how she felt towards him. He was rude and intentionally offensive to everyone, usually for no apparent reason; he rejected any kindness sent his way and made it impossible for anyone to get close to him.

Apart from her.

He thought that she was trying to change him. Trying to make him become a better person and switch to the good side. She hadn't denied it. It had never been her intention, but she would never deny how much she wanted him to seek the Order's protection. She was constantly filled with this icy fear for his life, and whilst him betraying his father and Voldermort wouldn't douse it, she would be more at ease knowing he was on the right side. On _her _side, fighting next to her, not against her.

The truth was that she didn't want him to change. Not one bit. She'd fallen in love with him subconsciously, not taking any of his faults or annoying traits into account. The time she'd spent analysing her unexpected and unfamiliar feelings had taught her many things, but the most shocking to her had been the realisation that she loved him for who he was. Warts and all. And that was why she let him think what he wanted. Because the truth would propel them into another dimension far more intense and complicated than the one they were in now.

"I don't want you to save me, Granger." He said after a long silence in a voice that told her that he knew what she was up to, and he disapproved immensely.

She smiled wryly at him, running her eyes over his battered and bruised body that had been bandaged and plastered - still attractively chiselled despite its purple tint. He looked more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him, and she found herself feeling very uncomfortable. Draco was always in control and strong – he took control of every situation he encountered and dealt with it quickly - his cunning mind and stealth contributing to his success. Now he was bedbound for the foreseeable future, and there was nothing that she could do to help him.

Her eyes met his, and she realised that she was all he had. She was his one link to a normal life, and probably the only person who genuinely cared for him unconditionally. It was a harsh, and rather strange, realisation to come to, and it unnerved her.

"No, but you need me to try." She replied quietly, her stubborn nature kicking in.

Draco studied her carefully, not understanding the brunette's intentions towards him at all, but recognising her irritating determination to have her way.

"I'm not asking for this," he stated firmly, determined to make her realise that he wouldn't be indebted to her in any way.

"I know," she replied, fully aware of what he was doing; closing himself off to her so that his weak and vulnerable side didn't show. "And I'm not offering either."

Hermione busied herself with folding the cloak as realisation sunk in for Draco: he had no choice in the matter. She was going to help him, and there was nothing he could do about it. She saw a tinge of irritation seep into his eyes and she rolled her eyes. He'd tried to go through everything alone, and he'd clearly failed miserably. She'd seen him crash and burn, and couldn't take any more. He looked almost a fraction of the man he was before, and the sight unnerved her. It was time for her to step in, and Merlin help him if he tried to stop her.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked in a hoarse voice, his eyes burning through her suspiciously.

"I hate seeing you like this."

Draco snorted and then winced in pain. Hermione subconsciously moved closer to him, but stopped herself from going too far.

"You should want me to suffer after everything I did to you."

She recognised that this was his way of acknowledging his mistake, but not apologising for making it. She could see that he was sorry that she'd gotten hurt, but not sorry enough to regret his actions. She wouldn't have expected anything else from him.

"I loved you." She said simply. His face stayed passive, as if her words and the tense they were said in had no effect on him, but she knew better.

"There's a thin line between love and hate."

"Exactly."

She smiled and sat on the side of his bed, her hand running through his hair gently. The barrier between them had been broken to an extent, and she wasn't about to put it back up. She needed this just as much as he did. She marvelled at the fact that even now, after being matted with blood and drenched in pain-induced sweat, his hair was still silky. Her fingers gently massaged his aching head therapeutically in the way she knew he liked, and his eyes slowly began to close.

"I'm not switching sides," he affirmed, his eyes still closed.

"I know," she replied, her voice concealing the twinge of sadness she felt at his words. "I know you can't."

"I wouldn't even if I could. Potter annoys the crap out of me!"

Hermione cracked a smile at his humour that was still intact, even now, and leaned down to lie next to him.

"What does this mean, for us?" he asked once she'd gotten herself settled, her head resting on his chest.

She sighed, recognising that he needed it to be said so that they both knew where they stood. Closure was something they both needed, but never seemed to get, and he wanted to assert it before the lines became blurry again.

"Nothing. Nothing's changed, Draco," she said determinedly, squeezing her eyes shut as she spoke, as if keeping them open would show her dishonesty. "We're not together."

Draco tensed at her words and she felt it immediately.

"Shouldn't you be off focussing on how to keep Potter alive? Why waste your time with me if we're not together?"

Hermione didn't rise to the bait. She knew that he was frustrated beyond belief at them not being together, mainly because it was a choice he'd been forced to make against his will. He'd never wanted to hurt her like that, and she knew it. Their feelings for each other were evident, and that's what made it so hard to keep things platonic. But it was for their own good. Any sort of relationship between them had to be off the cards until this bloodbath ended.

"I'm not giving up on you. Ever." She said quietly, before turning her head into him and drifting off to sleep. She felt him relax and rest his head against the top of hers – too weak to retort and too content to care. Her words, though inconclusive, carried hope. Hope that they both needed in order to get them through the longest year of their lives.


End file.
